


Fire on Ice

by OrchidQueen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ice Skating, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 12:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrchidQueen/pseuds/OrchidQueen
Summary: During dinner at one of their usual restaurants, Victor notices that Yuuri is distracted and distant. What could possibly be on his mind? // set in Japan, several months into Yuuri and Victor's relationship after the grand prix final





	Fire on Ice

“The food tastes even better than the last time we were here.” Victor said around a mouthful of shrimp. “The waiter seems nicer than the last one, too. Did you notice the bathrooms are cleaner today? They must have done that just for us don’t you think?”

“Uh.. Victor?” Victor’s eyes met Yuuri’s, as they had been doing for most of the evening, even if Yuuri had been neglecting to look back. “Could—would you mind slowing down on the alcohol?”

Victor blinked, halfway through the act of pouring himself a second glass of wine. “Of course.” He lowered the bottle with a grin, and Yuuri gave a sort of half smile back, nodded, then looked back to the same window he’d been staring out all night.

Victor’s smile faltered.

He tried to ignore the uneasiness that had been swirling around inside him like a bad hangover all evening, but Yuuri’s face… the way he had been so quiet and distant all night…

The rest of the day had gone smoothly enough, the two of them laughing and joking as usual. The change in attitude had been gradual, Yuuri talking less and less until he had stopped talking altogether and instead begun his doleful stare out the window. Victor shoved a heaping mound of noodles into his mouth, dismissing the matter. Yuuri was probably tired, he reasoned. After all, this was not the first time they had been out to dinner this week. It may have just been too much of the same thing. Maybe Yuuri was simply bored of this place.

Yes, Victor decided. Yuuri was tired, and he was bored of the food.

Viktor swallowed the thought as he swallowed his food, trying to make light of this like he did everything else.

He rested his elbow on the table, then rested his chin upon his hand. Yuuri did look good from this angle. There was something strikingly poetic about the curve of his jaw, the reflection of his face on the glass of the window which was splashed with the tears of the rain streaking from the sky outside.

It took a long moment for Victor to realize Yuuri’s reflection was staring back. Victor smiled, spreading out his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve caught me staring,” he said, leaning toward Yuuri now, playful in the wild hope that Yuuri would play along. “I’m not sorry, Moyo Solnyshko.” He waggled a single finger in the air. “I can’t help myself sometimes, you know this.”

Yuuri’s lips twitched and Victor brightened, sure that he had brought on a smile at last. But the happiness seemed to fall from Yuuri’s face and he darkened, turning back to the window, leaving Viktor to wonder if he had imagined it after all.

He frowned deeply and he crossed his arms. So much for that, then. He tried the direct approach. “Yuuuri?” In response to his name Yuuri turned his face up to Victor’s, looking a bit dazed. His brown eyes were wide and his eyelashes kissed the lenses of his glasses. Victor suppressed the urge to squeal, to grab Yuuri’s hands and bring them to his lips, and instead maintained his strict demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Yuuri pivoted in his seat with an air of urgency, moving his body to face the table instead of the lashing rain outside. “Nothing’s wrong, Victor,” he promised, shaking his head vehemently. “I’m just…I’m…” Yuuri bit his lip, and Victor’s eyes instantly followed the movement. “I guess I’m nervous.”

This took Victor by surprise. He uncrossed his arms and placed his fingers on the table, leaning forward again. He narrowed his eyes. What on Earth did Yuuri have to be nervous about? They had been out like this a hundred times or more, usually to a restaurant or perhaps a cafe. A stroll through the park, shopping together at the mall. Sometimes the dates went slow, sure. Sometimes one of them had had a difficult day, sometimes they were tired or maybe cross, but by the end it was always pleasant, dare he say _fun_. They could always cheer each other up, even at the darkest of times.

Yuuri wouldn’t meet his eyes now. Motioning to the waiter to bring the check, Victor paid for both meals, although Yuuri hadn’t eaten much. Strange. Very strange.

The cab ride back to Yuuri’s home wasn’t what Victor had expected either. Most of the time it was tipsy giggles and the odd heated embrace, but tonight it was just heavy silence, interrupted every once in a while by the clicking of the turn signal from the front of the cab, or a honk from passing traffic. Every attempt Victor made at conversation was ignored or deflected, but it wasn’t totally clear whether or not Yuuri was doing it on purpose.

What was clear, though, was that there was something else weighing heavily on his mind.

Yuuri perked up suddenly, yelled to the driver: “Stop the cab!”

To Victor’s immense surprise, Yuuri opened the door and hopped out onto the street. He looked at Victor. “I need to run inside. I’ll be fast. Ten minutes.” The words were hurried, clipped, and Yuuri had already slammed the door and rushed away before the last of them had even been spoken.

Victor’s mouth hung open in a response he would never get to utter. Where on Earth…

He ducked under the window, trying to get a good look at their location. He frowned. The Ice Castle? At this time of night? Victor had half a mind to chase after him, but decided to respect Yuuri’s wishes and wait for him here.

Victor managed to last about five minutes before hastily paying the cab man and sprinting to the front door of the building.

Inside it was eerily quiet, and completely empty. For a minute or two he could make out nothing but a few dark blobs that must have been furniture, one or two windows through which light could barely leak through. The only sounds were the clacking of Victor’s shoes and the dripping of the rain water from his soaked hair as he wandered through the place, checking the few scattered rooms for Yuuri while his eyes slowly adjusted. The last place he checked, the place he probably should have checked first, was the ice itself.

Victor had saved it for last because he was certain Yuuri would be there. And even though Victor wanted to know what was going on, what in the world was going through Yuuri’s head, he admitted to himself as he wrenched the glass door open that he was afraid, and more than a little confused.

His confusion only doubled when he didn’t find Yuuri there either.

Victor whirled, a bit panicky now. Had Yuuri slipped out while Victor was searching for him? Had he left him there, alone in the abandoned dark?

What an odd trick, so unusual for gentle Yuuri.

Then the lights turned on, and Victor turned around. Yuuri was heading toward him, but he had changed. His glasses were off, his hair slicked back from his forehead, and he was wearing something skin tight—much to the pleasure of Victor’s eyes— and meant for the ice. Half of the suit was sparkling black and the other half was pure, stark white. Despite his confusion, Victor’s eyes widened as he took him in—this beautiful, _flawless_ man. Victor fisted his shirt in his hand directly over his heart, not even wishing to slow its wild, desperate beating because looking at Yuuri seemed to justify its quickening. It seemed absurdly appropriate that Yuuri should make Victor's heart beat like this, to the rhythm of his name.

Yuuri didn’t say anything, but only lifted one foot for victor to take off one blade guard, then the other. Victor complied with the silent request without a word himself, perfectly content to bow at Yuuri’s feet for a moment.

When he again stood, Yuuri was fidgeting with his fingers and staring intently at the floor. Uneasy but donning a small smile for Yuuri’s sake, Victor held the guards under his arms and rested his hands on Yuuri’s to stop the movement. His smile grew when Yuuri’s fingers tightened around his. “It’s still rough around the edges,” he said, finally meeting Victor’s eyes. “But—but I’m sure I’m ready.”

A crease formed between Victor’s eyebrows. “What’s rough?” he asked, confused but endlessly supportive. “Have you choreographed your own routine?”

Yuuri said nothing, just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and released Victor’s hands in favor of the ice.

Victor’s brows rose. How had Yuuri had time to come up with a routine without him noticing? When had he done this?

Yuuri turned back to face him when he reached the center of the ice. He paused, eyes still closed, took another steadying breath. When Yuuri’s eyes finally opened all the nervous energy seemed to have drained from them, the tension was gone from his body, and he smiled. That smile: dazzling, utterly blinding in its stunning determination… Victor went limp, and everything he had been holding fell from his arms. This man…

Then Yuuri began to move, and Victor’s confusion melted away with each shift of his skates on the ice.

Victor’s eyes widened and he leaned as far as he could over the wall at the edge of the ice. Yuuri hadn’t been lying: it _was_ a bit rough around the edges, some of it, and probably hadn’t been practiced quite enough. But it _had_ to be, Victor realised with growing excitement, clutching the wall as if it were the one thing that anchored him to the ground. It had to be rough, because ‘polished’ and ‘smooth’ would have been a lie in the story Yuuri was telling.

Because this story itself was rough—Victor could feel it in every sharp, sudden spin that catapulted Yuuri from the careful grace of his step sequences. He could feel it in each subtle movement of Yuuri’s arms, sometimes reaching for Victor, sometimes reaching, eager, toward the sky.

Yuuri spread his legs into a half-split, locking eyes with Victor before melting into a slow spin. When he rose back up he came straight for Victor—who grinned wickedly at the matching expression on Yuuri’s face—but shifted at the last second and curved away, back to the center of the ice.

If Victor had ever had any doubt in his mind before about the subject of Yuuri’s story, it was far gone now. As he watched Yuuri twist and slide through the motions of his routine, he could feel it with unwavering certainty: Yuuri was skating their Eros.

Amazing.

But then the story changed, and Victor’s lips parted in wonder. Yuuri’s movements were smooth now; the embodiment of grace. And Victor knew with wild, giddy pleasure that this story wasn’t just about their Eros, but their Agape as well. Everything their relationship consisted of was displayed in the exquisite fusion of music and ice and love and life that was his Yuuri Katsuki.

Physical love, selfless love; both swirled together with each of Yuri’s actions until they were one and the same, indistinguishable from one another, breathtaking to the point where Victor almost felt as if he should sit down. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. Instead he smiled fiercely, never taking his eyes off of Yuuri. After all, that was his promise, wasn’t it?

And it was a promise he never intended to forget.

At last it seemed that the music was slowing, and Yuuri along with it. Victor raised his hands to applaud, but a single lilting note echoed through the large room, so Victor lowered his hands. The music began anew: Slow, deliberate; an entirely different atmosphere than what the melody was doing before but intertwined with love all the same, and Yuuri gave Victor the smile of a lifetime before bowing in his direction. And now, every move was unhurried, specifically designed so that the two of them did not have to break eye contact. Not once. 

Victor knew now that this dance Yuuri had created was more than just a simple story, and now it made sense that Yuuri had been so nervous before, so intent on making sure he could skate this to the best of his ability. Because this wasn’t just about sex, it wasn’t just love. It was far more than a surprise routine or an affirmation of his feelings for Victor. What victor was witnessing was Yuuri’s _soul_ , set bursting free from within to become art. To culminate into this dance on the ice, this dance meant for Victor, and Victor alone.

And all at once Victor understood.

Strong and steadfast and relentless, Yuuri was skating to their future. To the love that would endure through any and all unforeseen obstacles. To a love that was not limited to just one thing, but would always be a massive, messy, beautiful combination of two souls, merged by the cold passion of the ice and the fire in their hearts. A love in which they would both boundlessly inspire one another to live.

Yuuri ended in a kneeling position, head up to gaze at Victor as if to say _I am yours. This is for you._

Victor was unsurprised at the prickling behind his eyes as he met that gaze, unable to keep the smile from his face. He clapped emphatically while Yuuri grinned back, breathing heavily and wiping stray tears from his own cheeks.

_Every time you take to the ice, my heart is exposed for the world to see. Because, Yuuri, out there on the ice,_  
_you are my heart._


End file.
